


Stonewall Secrets

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Making Out, Non-Explicit Sex, Private School, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Stonewall Prep, Strangers to Lovers, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Her pupils dilate at his small, approving smile, and she bites her lip, putting her hands behind her back like the very good girl she appears to be. She elongates her neck and spreads her own stance, readying herself for inspection with more grace than any show animal could ever hope for. “What’s your name?” he asks.“Elizabeth.” Her eyes darken, almost like she’s shifting deeper into character.“Elizabeth,” he repeats, the four syllables like red velvet on his tongue. “You can call me Jughead. Care to join me for an adventure?”** Just as Jughead's about to return to his room at Stonewall Prep, a lovely blonde warns him not to go in yet. The Blonde Barricade is his latest mystery and he's determined to get closer to the intimate truth behind her motives. **
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 36
Kudos: 145
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Stonewall Secrets

There are at least four different scenarios tangled in Jughead’s head and he needs to figure them out tonight if he has any shot in hell of winning the short story contest. He’s not in any kind of mental space to anticipate a gorgeous girl _exiting_ his room as he tries to enter it.They collide in an awkward fumble that has him stepping back to make room for her. He automatically reaches up to steady her shoulder, but he yanks his hand back just as quickly when he remembers that he shouldn’t touch a stranger, even if she is the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

“Oh! Sorry.” Her cheeks flush bright under the guard of long, curled eyelashes, her expression mildly guarded.

“That’s okay.” He’s not sure what to say, exactly, especially since he’s curious what excuse she has for being in his room in the first place, let alone leaving it.

Her big green eyes don’t seem as falsely innocuous as Donna’s, Moose’s manipulative friend with benefits and the only other girl he’d anticipate being in their dorm room. This girl seems infinitely better and less likely to gut them in their sleep. Then again, he’s making assumptions. Maybe this girl murdered his roommate and doesn’t want him going into his room to discover the crime scene. Stranger things have happened at Stonewall.

The blonde is wearing a mini skirt and form-fitting sweater, notably lacking Stonewall’s navy and plaid. She almost has a 60’s vibe. But hot.

 _Pretty_ , he corrects. _Beautiful_ comes unbidden. Not that any of it matters.

She studies him with a certain interest, almost like she’s investigating. He tries to ignore the flush of heat on the back of his neck and the apples of his cheeks at the idea of being under her gaze or touch. Getting to know this girl with intelligent eyes, sweet lips, and a perfect, smooth ponytail in all capacities. Jughead wants to test the springiness of the curved end, edge the elastic band down and see how her hair falls before tugging–

Clearing his throat, Jughead offers the blonde an apologetic smile for his unintended mental tryst interrupting her exit. She’s just standing in front of his room, seemingly lost in thought. Curious, he tries to lighten the mood. “Is there a reason I can’t go to my room, or…?”

“Sorry. I’ll get out of your way.” She steps to the side, looking slightly embarrassed as she fiddles with something behind her back.

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, trying to be charming as he reaches for the handle, “Just don’t do it ag–”

The girl slams her hand over his and flings herself between him and the door like a human shield. His pulse rockets in his ears, deafening him so quickly that he almost doesn’t hear her protest. “Wait! You don’t want to go in there right now.”

Bewildered, he shakes his head, his gaze dipping to her lips. This scenario is already shaping up to be a mystery in and of itself. The Blonde Barricade. Actually, that’s kind of inspiring. Not as inspiring as the way her thumb slides over his knuckles, of course, but it’s something, nonetheless.

Something silky tangles in their connection. As he pulls his hand out from under hers, he feels a strange sense of adrenaline that hyper focuses his attention on Moose’s necktie. The way she bites her lip and looks guilty almost has him jealous of his absent roommate.

“Did Moose do something?” At her confused look, he gestures to the door. “Either there’s a bucket of pig’s blood about to pour on the next person who walks in, or…?”

She seems to debate with herself before fixing him with the biggest, most earnest Bambi eyes he’s ever seen. Everything about her makes him think of “a magnificent, dangerous dame” from old detective movies. “My friend needed to talk to Moose about something personal. They told me to put this tie on the door to give them some privacy.”

He nods, then frowns at the silk. Something’s still not adding up. “Shouldn’t you go back in, then?”

“No!” Horrified, she backs up. “I’d give them at least twenty minutes to do...whatever it is they need to do. Just in case.” She tightens her ponytail with a determined yank and meets his eye with a fierceness that makes his tongue swell against the roof of his mouth. Loyalty is kind of a turn on, and definitely a rare thing around Stonewall Prep.

“Okay.” He leans against the door, wondering where else to go for relative privacy. “I guess I can go back to the library.”

She straightens her posture, eyes lighting up. “Is your library as magnificent as advertised?”

“Among other things,” he jibes. As soon as she arches a challenging brow at him, he tries to cover his tracks for the double entendre. “I meant that the cafeterias are also a great source of pride and joy. Very expansive.”

A pleasant buzz spreads through his veins as she leans closer, the air full of electricity. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself.”

He chuckles, flattered by the insinuation, even if she didn’t mean it that way. Then again, there are ways to find out. He folds his hands in front of him and raises his chin. “I’d love to show you.” The words purr with promise. Her pupils dilate at his small, approving smile, and she bites her lip, putting her hands behind her back like the very good girl she appears to be. She elongates her neck and spreads her own stance, readying herself for inspection with more grace than any show animal could ever hope for. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Elizabeth.” Somehow, her eyes darken, almost like she’s shifting deeper into character.

“Elizabeth,” he repeats, the four syllables like red velvet on his tongue. “You can call me Jughead. Care to join me for an adventure?”

Canines piercing her pretty pink smile, she nods. It takes everything in him not to call her a good girl and stroke her jaw. Instead, he bows his head and leads her down the hall with the saunter he uses in Quill and Skull games to assert his dominance. For once, he’s grateful for the stupid mind games. Surviving this place has lent him confidence that allows him to assert himself even in the most bizarre of situations, like gorgeous blondes diligently sticking to his side as he leads them to the library. Part of him wants to take her to the cafeteria so he can eat before he attempts to devour her, but another part of him is worried his appetite will dampen her intrigue.

The bizarre history tour doesn’t phase her. He points out the window Mr. Chipping dove through after a cryptic message to the class and Elizabeth is curious about the clues leading up to it. They go back and forth on theories and he enjoys the way she dances closer to the truth with him. A macabre waltz is a wonderful form of foreplay.

“Seems like Stonewall has a lot of mysteries.”

“You have no idea.” He grins. “Want to see the Baxter Brothers Collection? They’re all signed first editions.”

“Really?” She unlinks her hands from the curve of her back and follows him to the glass case. He studies her expression carefully, trying not to get too excited, to put too much faith in this fantasy. Gaze softening, she traces the glass as if she can feel the pulse of the books underneath. “We have sports trophies and plaques at my school, but nothing like this. They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah.” When she looks at him, it feels harder to breathe. He wants to grow in her esteem, wrap her in his arms, and claim her against the stacks until books rain down around them in triumphant celebration of a passion better than any he could put on the page. “You know, these books are actually ghostwritten by Stonewall students and graduates.” Even though he’s signed an NDA, he can’t help sliding his bag off his shoulder and leaning against the case in pride. “I’m actually researching the next great mystery.”

“You got the contract?”

He shrugs, trying to be modest, even as his smile betrays him.

“Congratulations!” Before he knows it, he’s wrapped up in a genuinely celebratory hug. Instinctively, he squeezes her tight enough to lift her off the ground, the pressure of her breasts a delicious thrill he wants to chase. As soon as her feet touch down, she pulls the hem of her skirt like it’s crawling up her skin without her permission. “How’s that going so far?”

“Spoilers,” he teases.

“I meant the research,” she insists, nudging his shoulder.

“Not bad. I’m a True Crime junkie, so I’ve been reading a lot of Capote and hanging out with dangerously beautiful blondes who could easily seduce me. Put myself in the genre, you know?”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Don’t you like your men reckless?”

Elizabeth looks at his lips, guarded desire swirling in her green eyes. “That depends on the risk, the reward, and the man.”

“In this case, I think it’ll be worth it.” Her eyes flick up to him in question. “What are you hiding, Elizabeth?” The moment he starts leaning, she does, too, and he feels an evil thrill as he pauses just centimeters away from her lips, his hand on the back of her neck.

“Jughead,” she breathes.

“Tell me.”

She pulls back an inch, disappointed. “I can’t, yet. You’ll get back to your room soon enough and forget I ever existed.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Then trust me,” she dares him, tilting her face to fit against his. “You’ll figure it out, my handsome investigator.”

The husky tone leaves no room for him to be self-conscious about if they’re progressing too fast. He kisses her firmly, welcoming the way her hands sneak onto either side of his face, his own fingers digging into the grooves of her hair and hip. It’s unclear who initiates the second kiss, their mouths seeking heat. He loses himself in a natural rhythm, in the way she grabs his collar and pulls him to her for more. There’s a curve to her lips that might be a smile and he wants to savor it against his tongue for as long as possible, especially if she’s supposed to leave instead of return to the room with him. He leans his ass against the glass case, tugging Elizabeth until she’s almost in his lap. They’re so into it, mouths open, his thumb slipping up under the hem of her sweater, that he isn’t paying attention to the rest of the library.

“Jughead?” Donna snaps.

Elizabeth jumps off of him in surprise, her eyes bright, arms folded.

“Donna,” Jughead clears his throats and puts one hand in his pocket to readjust things while the other migrates to Elizabeth to reassure her that Donna’s sharp tone shouldn’t scare her away.

“I didn’t realize we had an erotica section.”

“I thought it was about time we added one,” Jughead coughs. “Uh, Elizabeth, this is Donna. My classmate and Marmaduke’s… ”

“Special friend,” Donna finishes with a shit-eating, tight smile. “Or I _was_ , anyway, until I realized that the necktie around your dorm room handle wasn’t for you and your own freakish needs, but that walking gland Marmaduke and a new special friend.”

Dread seeps into the cracks of his mind that their tryst might cause trouble for his roommate and pseudo-friend.

“Sorry to cause confusion.” Elizabeth grabs his hand and bats her eyelashes at him in a way that makes his insides flutter with a mix of amusement and admiration. “The necktie was for privacy, not necessarily necking, although the way things are going with Juggie, maybe it will be.”

“So he’s not with someone else?” Donna shifts her weight suspiciously.

“Not that we know of,” Elizabeth clarifies as if she's reluctant to let go of their moment.

The affectionate glance and hand squeeze inspires him to tug her closer to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve been giving her a tour, so we’ve been a bit too busy to note the locale of my roommate.”

“I can see that.”

“So, uh, do you mind if we get back to it?”

“You have my blessing,” she breezes dryly. “Have Moose text me the next time you see him, assuming you come up for air long enough to notice him return.”

“Will do.”

Elizabeth visibly relaxes as soon as the navy blue blazer and dark hair are out of sight. Her fingers thread with the ones he’s perched on her shoulder. “For a second, there, I was worried you had a girlfriend.”

Indulging her playfulness, he kisses her forehead, enjoying the way she snuggles into him for even more affection. “I will in about ten minutes. Unless you’re willing to let me skip a few steps?”

Her ponytail slicks across his arm and he yearns to wind it around his hand and tug, but Donna’s interruption just reminded him how public they really are here. Elizabeth smiles at him like they’re the only two people in the world, her warmth sucking him into her bubble like sweet honey. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

They might be moving quickly, but he adores her very being, so he has to fight his instinct to say, “You’re my everything” and settles on, “You’re already making a mighty fine muse. I can only imagine how inspired and lucky I’d be if you spent more time with me.”

“You’re sweet, Juggie.” Nudging his chin with her thumb, Elizabeth pulls him down for a decidedly more appropriate kiss than the others they’ve shared in the library. “But I should probably go before I cause any more trouble for you and your roommate.” He’s not sure if she’s playing a scene or sincere. Probably a mix of the two, if the wistful look in her eyes is anything to go by. Guilt gnaws on his insides and he strokes her cheek to soothe her.

“You could stay.” Her eyes lock onto him, brilliant and shining in recognition of what he’s offering: his trust, his love, their own little sanctuary.

“Maybe. Just for a bit,” she relents, nuzzling into him.

“Why don’t we stop by the room to make sure Moose hasn’t been strangled with his own necktie?”

“Sounds great,” she chirps, ponytail swinging.

They hold hands the whole way back. He makes a show of knocking and looking at her for permission, for her indulgent head bob and smile, before entering his room. As he expected from the lack of response, Moose is not in the room, although there is a familiar lunch bag sitting on his desk.

“Huh. I thought you said he was having a chat with a friend.”

“He was. I don’t know where they could be.”

“Can’t be to get food, considering there’s some right here.” Jughead saunters over to the bag while Elizabeth patiently leans against his bedpost. Pop’s milkshakes and ice cream. His stomach rumbles at the promise of rich sustenance. “I think I’ve figured out the mystery.”

“Oh really?”

He opens the tub of ice cream and licks a wide stripe across the top, enjoying her bemused expression at the showiness. “You came here to seduce me.”

She chuckles, crossing her ankles. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t know you, remember?”

“You convinced Moose to leave and were probably planning on spreading yourself out on the bed, covered in ice cream, but you needed time for it to thaw after traveling with ice packs stuffed in here and–”

“Jughead,” she warns.

“Hey, if that’s not it, I’m going to insist you start talking. Otherwise, I have to assume my roommate is missing.”

“Just because he’s not present doesn’t mean he’s missing.”

“You sound like you know something,” he challenges, sucking more ice cream down before placing the tub back in the insulated bag. Now that they’re in the room, he’s got even more energy. He licks his lips, savoring the oncoming victory as her gaze follows his tongue. “And I’m going to get you talking.”

“Juggie,” she warns, shaking her head at the way he stalks to the door.

He flicks the lock in place while staring her down. “You’re not leaving this room until I’ve gotten everything I need—and so have you.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Is this how you solve all your mysteries?”

“I happen to find this kind of work very stimulating,” he informs her, stalking across the room to grip her hips.

“Yes, well—” He cuts her off by sucking on her neck, the cold from the ice cream causing her to gasp and latch onto his shoulders. “I guess, technically, you’re still investigating. Should I be protesting?”

He pushes her more firmly against the bedpost, sliding his hands under her sweater with increased suction at her neck. Any thoughts of false boundaries evaporate as she takes off his beanie and runs her hands through his hair. Just by the inflection of her moans, he can tell that she’s smiling, and he loves it. The texture of her skin raises under his ministrations, and he tries to convince himself that the hickey will sustain them until he can see her again and renew it. Unlatching, he licks his lips, wasting no time before hurrying her sweater over her head, letting her push and pull whatever she wants off of him, both of them kissing wildly in between. The excitement fuels their scramble to the top bunk.

“You going to talk for me, Elizabeth?”

“Depends on what you want me to say.”

He chuckles and rubs his middle finger along her slit. “How about ‘please?’”

“Please, what?” He slaps her ass just sharply enough to make her gasp. “Please fuck me, Juggie.”

“That’s my girl.”

It feels so good to be with her, to kiss and suck and worship her the way he wants to during the week—hell, the way he wants to all the time. Her nails bite into his shoulder blades, her thighs silky against his skin. They slink everything else out of the way and fuck slowly on the bed, his hands linked with hers, pretend-pinning her to the mattress as he urges her to give him everything with languorous kisses that spin his insides with pleasure.

When they come, the world melts into flames.

He strokes her hair, enjoying the way she hums and readjusts to keep him inside of her as long as possible. They look into each other’s eyes to reconnect, basking in a successful scene.

Eventually, she looks off to Moose’s desk. “Do you want some ice cream?”

“I could eat.” He presses a mischievous kiss to her shoulder. “You, or the treat. Why _did_ you want us to start outside of the room, by the way?”

“I forgot to add the tie, so when we ran into each other right before the scene I’d _planned_ , I had to improvise. The first thing I thought of was to manufacture a suspicious disappearance or pretend I was your roommate’s special friend, which I figured would make you way too jealous off the bat.”

“Me? Jealous?” He pushes her further into the mattress. “I think I’ve handled the other men in your life particularly well, even the pretend ones.”

“Jug, you’re the only one for me. Any scenario, any universe...you’re the one.” Hair splayed out on the pillow, her gaze and hand soft on his face, she is his angel, his muse, his everything.

Her sincerity takes his breath away and he has to fight the prick of tears that she can still overwhelm him with even after all of their years together. “I love you, Betty Cooper. Thank you. For being yourself. For playing games with me and helping me with the madness of our mysteries. You’re inspiring.”

“Was I? I didn’t feel like I got to flesh out the story.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got at least one short story and possibly a book series based on our scene. I’ve even got a title: The Blonde Barricade, a Missing Roommate Mystery.”

She laughs, eyes bright with delight and incredulity. “Mm, intriguing.”

“Will you visit me next week?” he pleads, peppering her with soft kisses. “I want to make sure I really nail this happy ending.”

She pushes on his chest as playfully as she can manage while still half-pinned under him. “Go eat your ice cream.”

“Trying to avoid the subject? Like I said, Cooper, I have ways to get you talking.”

“Oh really?”

Nodding conspiratorily, he slides off the bunk and grabs the ice cream. She holds the tub for him, not bothering to hide her amusement as he scrambles up to take it from her again.

“Not sharing?”

He sticks his tongue out in response, dragging it through the cool, soft texture and maintaining eye contact as he dives for the crease of her thigh.

“Juggie!” she hisses, nearly knocking him off the bed in shock, despite the awe on her face. “Oh my god!”

He draws a lazy crown on her skin, then sucks hard to get the heat back into it until she’s cursing and praising him.

“See, Betts? I knew I had ways to get you talking.”

Soon enough, his tongue returns to the feast, and the only mystery he cares about is how many times he can get her to come before they finish the ice cream.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my friends @thetaoofbetty, @theheavycrown, and @bettycooper for peeking at this fic for me and many thanks to all of you for your kudos, kind comments, and support. We could all use a fun distraction in these wild times and I hope you enjoy this one and let me know what you think! When did you suspect/find out about their game?
> 
> Also, extra thanks to those of you who've read/reviewed my original novel :) The next one is out at the end of this month so keep your eyes peeled on my author tumblr @eviebennetbooks or my fandom one @lovedinapastlife, bc I'll be posting more fic relatively soon, too! Stay safe, healthy, and loving, my dears.


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